A cute guy needed a favor from me yesterday. He wanted to temporarily leave his musical instrument in my office because it looked like it was going to rain outside.

Him: Do you mind if I leave this here [in a spot that isn't ever used]?Me: Sure [followed by a lame joke].Him: *smiles*Me: [More bad jokes]. Sorry, I can't help it. They [the lousy jokes] just keep coming out.Him: *smiles*

The plan was for him to pick up his instrument today. So, accordingly, I spent the first hour at work thinking up better jokes and clever responses in preparation for his return. Simultaneously, I tried to use my mind to will him to come in the afternoon when my hair is sexier.*

He came back in the morning. And I wasn't prepared! I didn't have my witty banter down and I was practically mute when he spoke to me. He was prepared though. He definitely recognized yesterday that I suffer from Bad Jokes Syndrome and readied himself with funnies to spit back at me.

Him: Hey, how are you?Me: Good.Him: Are you ready to part with this [his instrument]?Me: *smiles*Him: You can go back to standing in that spot all you want now.Me: *smiles*Him: Thanks again.

Then he walked out my door.

* * *

Time to deal with this tragedy in the only appropriate way - artistically.

A Poem Called Failure

Failure is a seven-letter wordFailure is my life sidekickFailure won't give me a breakRight now, I am trying to will myself to produce mourning tearsBut it's not working